This work is the result of the research which I started independently late in the 60s in Russia and since August 1992 have proceeded with abroad. The subject of the research was initially chosen to be Systems Theory, because it seemed rather close to the theory of communications, the then field of my occupation, on the one hand, and because it sounded intriguing enough and worth attempting at, on the other. But there was no idea of how and where to start the research, and it was decided to begin with the simplest type of system – a linear system.
The first step proved rather successful: there was found quite an elegant solution of the problem, imagined by myself, of determining the functional complexity of linear systems by their characteristics. That work was published in the 1969, No.2, issue of the Transactions of the Research Institute of Radio (Moscow) where I worked then. Although it was unclear how to proceed with that result, there was a vague indication in it to some connection between the abstract theory of linear systems and statistical physics, which seemed promising.
To make that puzzle out, I set off to supplement my knowledge of theoretical physics, and soon the above indication became more articulate: there is indeed some deep connection between the problem of the synthesis of linear systems and quantum mechanics. Intrigued by that clue, I attempted for several years to apply the solutions of Schroedinger’s-like equations, with the potential determined by characteristics of the system, to its synthesis. However, the results were unsatisfactory: something essential was missing in comprehending both the objects of theoretical physic and linear systems.
The solution came suddenly from where nobody could have expected it - from philosophy. Looking once through Hegel’s works, I was struck by a strangely close analogy between the conceptions of duality in dialectical logic and particle physics. That revelation triggered another stage of self-education, this time in dialectical philosophy. As a result, there arose conviction that Hegel's dialectical logic is actually the
general theory of systems sought for, but the philosopher’s peculiar way of thinking and the extremely abstract language of that his work made its interpretation in scientific terms almost impossible, with the exception of some most simple cases. So I had no choice but to endeavor my own interpretation of the dialectical logic, on the one hand, and, simultaneously, a revision of some theories and principles of theoretical physics in accordance with that logic, on the other hand, which eventually resulted in the theory expounded in this book. The first rough results, such as the existence of ether, its composition and the phenomenon of spontaneous generation of neutrons in it, were achieved early in the 80s, but it took me about fifteen years more to complete this research in a sufficiently adequate and convincing form.
This work is the result of the research which I started independently late in the 60s in Russia and since August 1992 have proceeded with abroad. The subject of the research was initially chosen to be Systems Theory, because it seemed rather close to the theory of communications, the then field of my occupation, on the one hand, and because it sounded intriguing enough and worth attempting at, on the other. But there was no idea of how and where to start the research, and it was decided to begin with the simplest type of system – a linear system.
The first step proved rather successful: there was found quite an elegant solution of the problem, imagined by myself, of determining the functional complexity of linear systems by their characteristics. That work was published in the 1969, No.2, issue of the Transactions of the Research Institute of Radio (Moscow) where I worked then. Although it was unclear how to proceed with that result, there was a vague indication in it to some connection between the abstract theory of linear systems and statistical physics, which seemed promising.
To make that puzzle out, I set off to supplement my knowledge of theoretical physics, and soon the above indication became more articulate: there is indeed some deep connection between the problem of the synthesis of linear systems and quantum mechanics. Intrigued by that clue, I attempted for several years to apply the solutions of Schroedinger’s-like equations, with the potential determined by characteristics of the system, to its synthesis. However, the results were unsatisfactory: something essential was missing in comprehending both the objects of theoretical physic and linear systems.
The solution came suddenly from where nobody could have expected it - from philosophy. Looking once through Hegel’s works, I was struck by a strangely close analogy between the conceptions of duality in dialectical logic and particle physics. That revelation triggered another stage of self-education, this time in dialectical philosophy. As a result, there arose conviction that Hegel's dialectical logic is actually the
general theory of systems sought for, but the philosopher’s peculiar way of thinking and the extremely abstract language of that his work made its interpretation in scientific terms almost impossible, with the exception of some most simple cases. So I had no choice but to endeavor my own interpretation of the dialectical logic, on the one hand, and, simultaneously, a revision of some theories and principles of theoretical physics in accordance with that logic, on the other hand, which eventually resulted in the theory expounded in this book. The first rough results, such as the existence of ether, its composition and the phenomenon of spontaneous generation of neutrons in it, were achieved early in the 80s, but it took me about fifteen years more to complete this research in a sufficiently adequate and convincing form.
The relation between Physics and Philosophy brings to mind the proverbial marriage of high drama; the parties do not approve of each other, but separated they cannot live. Philosophers find physicists shallow, and many physicists claim that they find philosophic speculations useless or worse. Mostly both display a lack of knowledge and understanding of the methods and goals of the other. A few researchers have tried to bridge this gap and explore the worlds of both parties. Michael Redhead has worked in this borderland, and when he retired from his chair in Cambridge, a symposium was arranged to honour him. The talks presented on this occasion are now published in a volume presenting much food for thought to both philosophers and physicists. The essays in this publication do not offer easy reading; not too many readers will have the preparation to penetrate the technical arguments offered. The authors are well acquainted with both philosophical argumentation and mathematical formalism, and, following the lead of Professor Redhead, they combine these in intricate and suggestive ways. Only a close reading can offer understanding of the points of view taken by the various authors. Browsing and mere reading defines the scenery, exploring it demands much more. Many of the nine essays included investigate the meaning of terms used loosely in physics contexts: locality, beables, symmetries and time in relativity. All essays utilize the mathematical structures of physics, but the approach is mainly philosophical; concepts like reality and metaphysics are applied. Some writings are more physical in their treatment of technical questions relating to modern quantum theory. Bohmian mechanics, localized quantum states and gauge symmetries are discussed in detail. It is, however, found that these present interpretational problems that are usually glossed over in purely physical treatments. For an old sceptic like myself, it is quite refreshing to find that many assertions, taken for granted in our textbooks, are indeed doubtful and offer conceptual or technical difficulties. This insight is what a philosophical analysis can offer the working physicist; future progress may well arise from such realizations. However, the results offered by philosophical analysis are usually found unsatisfactory; the hope that philosophy can suggest novel directions for the theory remains unfounded. Philosophers can learn that modern physics rests on a very shaky conceptual foundation. The theory has evolved by a combination of serendipity and opportunism. The beast that finally has emerged is neither well founded nor internally consistent. Its only merit is that it works. That offers the ultimate philosophical problem of modern physics. If the present book can help the philosopher to behold this challenging but overwhelming wilderness, then it serves a useful purpose indeed. But the prospective researcher has to learn to master the difficult language used by the natives, who are not always friendly. I enjoyed reading the book immensely, but the technical difficulty of the text made my understanding remain mostly superficial. I hope to have the time to return some of the essays, and look into the references and issues involved. The work is genuinely what it promises: a guide From Physics to Philosophy .
The difficulties of the old quantum theory were largely dispelled by the development of quantum mechanics in the 1920s. First Heisenberg (1925) developed the rather abstract matrix mechanics and soon after Schro¨dinger (1926; see also Eckart, 1926) developed the physically more appealing wave mechanics. Subsequently he showed them to be mathematically equivalent. The physicists were greatly relieved; now they had once again a mathematical formalism that enabled the results of experiments to be calculated. It was possible to move forward. It is certainly a very elegant and indeed beautiful formalism, and does enable the results of many physical measurements to be calculated with great accuracy. It is used daily by atomic and nuclear physicists; there is no other way to make calculations. From the earliest days there has been intense debate about the interpretation of quantum mechanics, and it shows no signs of being settled; if anything it is becoming more intense over the years. As Penrose has remarked, no one understands quantum mechanics. Feynman (1967; see also Sykes, 1994) also admitted that ‘nobody understands quantum mechanics’, and Einstein once remarked: ‘I have thought a hundred times as much about the quantum problems as I have about general relativity theory’ (Pais, 1994, p. 57). It should therefore be evident that the most that can be done here is to try to show where the real difficulties lie, and how the failure to recognize that quantum mechanics is an essentially statistical theory has led to a series of confusing quantum paradoxes. It is just these paradoxes that have often been used to support theological speculations. It is useful to ask what ‘understanding quantum mechanics’ actually means. Certainly it means being able to calculate the results of many measurements. The same applies to Newton’s theory of gravitation, which we understand in the sense that we can use it as a basis of calculation, although we do not really understand the gravitational force itself. Very often, especially in modern physics, the mathematical formalism does not give us the sort of intuitive physical feeling for what is going on that we often obtain from classical mechanics. Perhaps we can never achieve more than this for quantum mechanics. In classical mechanics we can assume that a property that is measured objectively exists prior to the interaction of the measuring apparatus with the observed system. Quantum mechanics, however, ‘is incompatible with the proposition that measurement discovers some unknown but pre-existing property’ (Peres, 1997, p. 14). There is an important distinction between mysteries and absurdities. We may be forced to live with mysteries, but there is no reason why we should put up with absurdities such as the wave-particle duality, tunnelling through potential barriers, acausal events and the collapse of the wave function. These are the quantum paradoxes that will be discussed later on. They arise within the Copenhagen interpretation of quantum mechanics and are solved by other interpretations. These alternative interpretations enable us to make conjectures about what is going on, even though we cannot understand it in detail. This is acceptable and a stimulus to further research. It is certainly difficult enough to understand quantum mechanics, but there is no need to try to visualize logical absurdities in the effort to do so. Quantum mechanics is a mathematical formalism that makes it possible to calculate the results of some experiments. Anything more than this, such as questions about the interpretation of what is measured and whether it tells us what is actually going on in the system being studied, belongs to philosophy. Thus we are concerned here with what is essentially a philosophical debate; if it were just a matter of physics the debate would have been settled long ago. One of the difficulties is that it invokes the results of experiments and uses the language of quantum mechanics. Inevitably this language uses philosophical terms and then it is easy to give the impression that the philosophical propositions are in some way entailed by the physical results. These in turn can influence theological thinking. In order to be quite clear which arguments are justified and which are not, it is essential to separate the three levels of discourse: physical, philosophical and theological. Our task is to relate these together, and this immediately raises the traditional problems of the philosophy of science, including the relation of experiment to theory, and of theory to explanation. We begin by discussing experiments, distinguishing between those that are real and those that are imaginary.
ENERAL philosophy claims to be the critical subject which lays down for all of us what we may be allowed to think, and yet it has played no part whatever in the great revolutions of human thought of the present century-those connected with relativity and the quantum theory. It might have been expected that the scientists would have been constantly consulting the philosophers as to the legitimacy of their various speculations, but nothing of the kind has happened. Since no one can dispense with some sort of metaphysic, each scientist has made one for himself, and no doubt they contain many crudities, but it would seem that a deep interest in metaphysic is a disadvantage rather than an advantage to the physicist-at least I have the impression that those of my friends who are most inclined to speculate on the ultimate things appear to be the ones whose scientific work is most hampered by doing so. Now I propose to risk a similar indiscretion. I want to embody in it the practical philosophy of a physicist, and I do not mean it as an attack on the pure philosophers, who are very reasonable people, only chargeable with the minor offence of not having made me want to read their books! I had better begin by stating shortly the ideas I intend to discuss. There is a notable contrast between the way we think about things and the way we think we ought to think about them.
Quantum mechanics is usually defined in terms of some loosely connected axioms and rules. Such a foundation is far from the beauty of, e.g., the `principles' underlying classical mechanics. Motivated, in addition, by notorious interpretation problems, there have been numerous attempts to modify or `complete' quantum mechanics. A first attempt was based on so-called hidden variables; its proponents essentially tried to expel the non-classical nature of quantum mechanics. More recent proposals intend to complete quantum mechanics not within mechanics proper but on a `higher (synthetic) level'; by means of a combination with gravitation theory (R Penrose), with quantum information theory (C M Caves, C A Fuchs) or with psychology and brain science (H P Stapp). I think it is fair to say that in each case the combination is with a subject that, per se , suffers from a very limited understanding that is even more severe than that of quantum mechanics. This was acceptable, though, if it could convincingly be argued that scientific progress desperately needs to join forces. Quantum mechanics of a closed system was a beautiful and well understood theory with its respective state being presented as a point on a deterministic trajectory in Liouville space---not unlike the motion of a classical N -particle system in its 6N -dimensional phase-space. Unfortunately, we need an inside and an outside view, we need an external reference frame, we need an observer. This unavoidable partition is the origin of most of the troubles we have with quantum mechanics. A pragmatic solution is introduced in the form of so-called measurement postulates: one of the various incompatible properties of the system under consideration is supposed to be realized (i.e. to become a fact, to be defined without fundamental dispersion) based on `instantaneous' projections within some externally selected measurement basis. As a result, the theory becomes essentially statistical rather than deterministic; furthermore there is an asymmetry between the observed and the observing. This is the point where consciousness may come in. Complemented by an introduction and several appendices, Henry Stapp's book consists essentially of three parts: theory, implications, and new developments. The theory part gives a very readable account of the Copenhagen interpretation, some aspects of a psychophysical theory, and, eventually, hints towards a quantum foundation of the brain--mind connection. The next part, `implications', summarizes some previous attempts to bridge the gap between the working rules of quantum mechanics and their possible consequences for our understanding of this world (Pauli, Everett, Bohm, Heisenberg). The last section, `new developments', dwells on some ideas about the conscious brain and its possible foundation on quantum mechanics. The book is an interesting and, in part, fascinating contribution to a field that continues to be a companion to `practical' quantum mechanics since its very beginning. It is doubtful whether such types of `quantum ontologies' will ever become (empirically) testable; right now one can hardly expect more than to be offered some consistent `grand picture', which the reader may find more or less acceptable or even rewarding. Many practicing quantum physicists, though, will remain unimpressed. The shift from synthetic ontology to analytic ontology is the foundation of the present work. This means that fundamental wholes are being partitioned into their ontologically subordinate components by means of `events'. The actual event, in turn, is an abrupt change in the Heisenberg state describing the quantum universe. The new state then defines the tendencies associated with the next actual event. To avoid infinite regression in terms of going from one state of tendencies to the next, consciousness is there to give these events a special `feel', to provide a status of `intrinsic actuality'. The brain of an alert human observer is similar in an important way to a quantum detection device: it can amplify small signals to large macroscopic effects. On the other hand, actual events are not postulated to occur exclusively in brains. They are more generally associated with the formation of records. Records are necessarily part of the total state of the universe: it is obvious that the state of the universe cannot undergo a Schrödinger dynamics and at the same time record its own history. `The full universe consists therefore of an exceedingly thin veneer of relatively sluggish, directly observable properties resting on a vast ocean or rapidly fluctuating unobservable ones.' The present ideas also bear on how the world should be seen to develop. While conventional cosmology encounters problems as to how to define the intial conditions, which would enter the governing equations of motion, here `the boundary conditions are set not at some initial time, but gradually by a sequence of acts that imposes a sequence of constraints. After any sequence of acts there remains a collection of possible worlds, some of which will be eliminated by the next act.' Connected with those acts is `meaning': there has always been some speculation about the special significance of local properties in our understanding of the world. One could argue that correlations (even the quantum correlations found, e.g., in the EPR-experiments) were as real as anything else. But also Stapp stresses the special role of locality: the `local observable properties, or properties similar to them are the natural, and perhaps exclusive, carriers of meaning in the quantum universe. From this point of view the quantum universe tends to create meaning.' This sounds like an absolute concept: meaning not with respect to something else, but defined intrinsically---not easy to digest. The role of consciousness in the developing quantum universe requires more attention. `The causal irrelevance of our thoughts within classical physics constitutes a serious deficiency of that theory, construed as a description of reality.' This is taken to be entirely different within quantum mechanics. `The core idea of quantum mechanics is to describe our activities as knowledge-seeking and knowledge-using agents.' `21st century science does not reduce human beings to mechanical automata. Rather it elevates human beings to agents whose free choices can, according to the known laws, actually influence their behaviour.' An example with respect to perception is discussed: `Why, when we look at a triangle, do we experience three lines joined at three points and not some pattern of neuron firings?' The brain `does not convert an actual whole triangle into some jumbled set of particle motions; rather it converts a concatenation of separate external events into the actualization of some single integrated pattern of neural activity that is congruent to the perceived whole triangle.' How convincing is this proposal? It is hard to tell. I think Henry Stapp did a good job, but there are tight limitations to any such endeavour. Quantum mechanics is often strange indeed, but it also gives rise to our classical world around us. For the emergence of classicality jumps and measurement projections (the basic phenomena connected with those fundamental events of choice) are not needed. Therefore, I doubt whether the explanation of the evolution of our world really allows (or requires) that much free choice. On the other hand, most scientist will agree that empirical science was not possible without free will: we could not ask independent questions if this asking was part of a deterministic trajectory. The fact that the result of a quantum measurement is indeterminate (within given probabilities) does certainly not explain free will. How about the type of measurment? The experimentalist will have to assume that he can select the pertinent observable within some limits. But given a certain design the so-called pointer basis (producing stable measurement results) is no longer a matter of free choice. `The main theme of classical physics is that we live in a clocklike universe.' Today it is often assumed that the universe was a big (quantum-) computer or a cellular automaton. Many would be all too happy to leave that rather restrictive picture behind. But where to go? Stapp suggests giving consciousness a prominent role: `The most profound alteration of the fundamental principles was to bring consciousness of human beings into the basic structure of the physical theory.' How far we are able to go in this direction will depend on the amount of concrete research results becoming available to support this view.
Introduction Chapter 1 dealt with one of the deepest mysteries in modern science: how to explain consciousness. This Part deals with another mystery: how to make sense of quantum mechanics. Both involve a problem of reconciliation with the classical worldview, which is one hint that the two mysteries might be related. A second is that, unlike classical physics, which makes no reference to or allowance for consciousness, quantum theory raises the issue of consciousness and its relationship to the physical world in a very direct way. These hints do not necessarily mean there is a connection between the two mysteries, but by the end of this Part I hope to have shown why it would be natural to look for one. My more immediate aim here is to give the social scientific reader an introductory understanding of the experimental findings of quantum theory, its key concepts, and the debates about its interpretation. The discussion assumes no prior knowledge of quantum physics and makes no use of mathematics. Quantum theory without equations might seem like an oxymoron, and certainly reading this Part will not enable anyone to use quantum theory. But to a perhaps surprising degree it is possible to understand quantum theory without being able to use it. Its findings can be communicated in ordinary language, and the same goes for its main concepts and interpretive debates. One consequence of this has been the emergence of a virtual cottage industry of books on quantum theory for a lay audience. Most are written by physicists, and many are quite good. However, it is not just popular treatments that do without equations: much of the professional philosophical literature does as well. (I draw on both kinds of literature below.) Philosophers of physics are trained to understand the math, of course, which is necessary for a full appreciation of the issues.
The odd concepts of quantum physics are nearly a century old. They may seem difficult and forbidding at first sight, but the barrier to understanding is not their difficulty but their differentness . Unlike classical models, quantum theory does not attempt to simulate Nature. It gives us information about observations of Nature. But it does contain a “theoretical entity” that claims to contain all information, observation notwithstanding, namely the quantum state vector in Hilbert space. Scientists routinely use the language of Hilbert space, and nonscientists do not use it at all, which is understandable but unfortunate. A sort of baby-talk has become the lingua franca for much of the popular journalism of quantum physics, an awkward patois that combines some of the early groping language of Bohr, de Broglie, Schrödinger, and Heisenberg with more modern words about symmetries and states. Earnest amateurs still ask me about the mystery of Bohr orbits. There is no mystery because there are no orbits, except as historical curiosities. Same for “wave–particle duality.” Same for “quantum jumps.” A friend once asked me to address a philosophy seminar about the “paradoxes of quantum mechanics.” He said he had approached C. N. Yang first, who replied “What paradoxes?” There are some mathematical and logical rough spots in our current best theory of matter, and perhaps some of them can be framed as paradoxes. But the theory is actually rather straightforward, and it has a perfectly clear interpretation linked to experiments that, in their simplest form, anyone can perform (and students do routinely in college laboratories). No empirical observations are known that are inconsistent with the quantum framework.